


We Should Quit, But We Love it Too Much

by VStarlight



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Gen, Graphic Description of Murder, Knives, Murder, Unresolved Sexual Tension, maureen is already dead, murder kink kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VStarlight/pseuds/VStarlight
Summary: Billy thought killing Maureen would solve his problems, it really, really doesn't.
Relationships: Billy Loomis/Stu Macher, implied
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	We Should Quit, But We Love it Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> i started this around halloween and only just finished it -_-  
> concrit is appreciated

Billy stared at his reflection in the mirror, hair wet and slick with blood. He ran his tongue over his teeth; still able to taste the cloying metallic tang from when he’d bit his tongue. Turning the sink on, he washed the gore off of his hands, scrubbing until his skin was red and raw. He stood there, fingers going numb from the scalding water until he heard a timid knock on the door.

“You okay in there buddy?” He didn't respond, just watching the light pink of the water swirl down the drain.

Another knock. “I'm gonna come in okay?” He heard the creak of the door and felt the faucet turn off. A hand rested on his shoulder. He hadn't realized he’d been shaking. He turned and looked up, shrugging off the touch.

“I’m fine.” His voice wavered. He wasn't fine. Long arms pulled him into a crushing embrace, not caring about the blood still smeared on his clothes. His forehead pressed against a soft bathrobe, and he gripped at the fabric.

It’d been so long since he’d been held like this.

Hands ran through his hair, getting snagged on the clumps of now drying blood. The fingers tangled themselves in the shorter strands at the nape of his neck, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

“What the fuck did we just do, Stu?” His voice was muffled by the fluffy robe. “What are we?”

The fingers stopped their methodical combing, coming instead to rest on BIlly’s shoulders. “Whatever we want to be, I guess.” Stu took a small step back even with Billy holding a death grip on the fabric of the bathrobe. “We never really thought about what came next, huh.” Billy fell back into Stu’s chest with a quiet sob.

After killing Maureen, Billy thought he would’ve felt relieved, euphoric. He hadn’t expected self-hatred and fear to be gnawing at his insides. The plan had seemed simple, kill the whore, and be done with it. They had accounted for most things, police, alibis, method, escape route, but Billy hadn’t considered that he might _enjoy_ killing her. Feeling the second of resistance before the knife sank into her flesh, the gurgling sounds she would make when he knew he hit a spot that hurt like hell. The adrenaline rush, spurring him on. _Just one more stab won't make much of a difference, she’s already torn to shreds._

The blood was the worst of it, though, feeling almost molten when it first spattered against his skin. The slickness of his red-stained hands making it tricky to hold the knife properly. But the cherry on that fucked up cake was when Billy looked up from the freshly made corpse and finally noticed Stu.

His pupils blown wide, a manic grin spread across his face, showing off his canines that Billy always focused on. Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, a trickle of blood dripping down his cheek; his silhouette outlined in a glow from a streetlight outside. He looked debauched and entirely holy, a far cry from how he looked now wrapped in an almost too fluffy bathrobe, hair messy and skin flushed from the shower.

Billy finally looked up. Stu’s eyes were studying his face with an intensity he’d never seen the other boy possess. He looked entranced, captivated, but under the layers of reverie, there was something darker. More primal. Hunger.

He looked away, back to his face in the mirror. His hair now pushed back, his bare chest still sweat covered, and his eyes red from tears he dared not let fall. He forced his fingers to uncurl and let his hands drop down to his sides. Stu gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned to leave, “You might wanna wear some long sleeves tomorrow, bitch gave you some nasty bruises.”

A crazed laugh forced its way out of Billy’s throat, he walked backward and sank onto the bathroom floor just as the door clicked shut.


End file.
